Gryffindor Blood: Year One
by Omegakishan
Summary: What if instead of three the golden trio had been four, what if Harry and Ron had befriended another person on the train to Hogwarts. A Quidditch-playing strategist, a witch prodigy, a young inventor and the boy-who-lived. The four who will defeat the darkness and uphold the light.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

_Amid the ruins of a once great school of magic, four warriors stood._

_ Back to back, surrounded, the wizarding world's last hope was about to face an army of darkness._

_ Their leader, a dark-haired boy with vivid green eyes and a lightning bolt scar on his forehead, was wielding a silver bladed long-sword in his left hand and a wand in the other._

_ On his left, a girl with bushy brown hair holding a wand momentarily clasped hands with a tall red-haired boy, armed with a custom-built and modified handgun and a wand._

_ The last of the four was a brown-haired Indian boy equipped with twin Japanese broadswords and a dark bladed long-sword embedded with a wand core._

_ They were all roughly seventeen, and they were all that stood between Voldemort and the end of the world._


	2. The Beginning

_"Brightest witch her age, young Hermione was, scored a hundred and twelve percent on the first test I gave her"  
- Filius Flitwick in a letter to his cousin June 92_

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left - Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff - I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Harry didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, he'd never had any money in his life until a month ago, and he told Ron so, all about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up.

They heard the sound of someone running, and their conversation was interrupted by an Indian boy who looked to be about their age sticking his head into the compartment. "Is that seat taken?" he asked indicating the seat next to Ron. "Nah, it's free" Ron answered, a little surprised by the sudden newcomer. "I'm Kishan, by the way, Kishan Parekh." Ron introduced himself, but before Harry could, a pale boy, who Harry recognized from Madam Malkin's robe shop, barged in, followed by two thickset boys, who looked rather like gorillas.

The pale faced boy was the first to speak. "You should've realized you couldn't hide from me, Parekh, you'll pay for making me look like a fool." Kishan stood, looking slightly irritated. "Malfoy, I told you before that I can take you in a duel anytime, but setting those two trolls after me is hardly fair. For them." Malfoy looked slightly taken aback. Kishan drew his wand. "If you and your gorillas don't leave soon I'll jinx the lot of you into a trio of slugs." For the briefest of seconds Malfoy actually looked scared, then hid it with a sneer and proceeded to leave.

He was at the door and turned for a parting jibe when he noticed the other occupants of the carriage.

"So it's true," he began, "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts, it _is_ you, isn't it?" "Yes," said Harry.  
"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, "and my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and Parekh here, and it'll rub off on you." Harry, Ron and Kishan stood up. "Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair. "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered. "Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron. "But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle - Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, the compartment door slid open "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth. "We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, "What has been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail. I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No - I don't believe it - he's gone back to sleep-" And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

That question was directed towards Kishan. "What actually happened was that I was having discussion with some of the other first years about cars and transport, and he turned up to proclaim his importance, eventually an argument broke out and he ended up losing it. He challenged me to a duel, so I decided to bluff my way out by saying I could easily beat him. He set his gorillas on me so I ran, eventually I ended up here."

"Wait a second, when you said could jinx them into slugs you were bluffing?" Ron asked, surprised.

"To be honest, the whole thing was an act, I even put on a fake personality."

The Bushy haired girl was still there.

"Well, that's not very good, is it? You should learn jinxes instead of pretending you know them. I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you.

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Kishan Parekh," said Kishan.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century.

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad... Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

* * *

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take.

Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n five to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Ron and Kishan were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

* * *

There the first chapter has been posted. Extra long because the last one was a bit short. I won't use anything else from the book from now on. Promise. This is my first fanfic and I'll think of using the above text as an initiation into writing.

I forgot the disclaimer so here goes nothing:

**Disclaimer:**

I Don't Own Anything that belongs to someone else. The only thing I own is Kishan. I don't make money from this. So if I was sued, there would be nothing for me to give.

Oh and by the way please review, I need to know how well my first fanfic is going


	3. The Sorting

_"Albus hid the truth from them because he thought they were not ready, but it was we who were not ready to tell them"  
- Minerva McGonagall in 'The Second War'_

The door swung open instantly. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald robes stood there. She had a stern face, giving the impression that she was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The hall they now shuffled into was big enough to fit a house in. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to be visible, and a magnificent marble staircase led to the upper floors.

Professor McGonagall led them across the stone floor. The drone of hundreds of voices could be heard from a door on the right – the rest of the school was already here – but they were shown into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing closer together than they usually would have, looking about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harry nervously tried to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

"I don't think it would be something like that, we haven't learnt any magic yet so they can't test us that way," Kishan told the other two.

Hermione looked slightly crestfallen, she had just started whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learnt.

"Does anyone actually know what qualities distinguish the houses from each–," Kishan was interrupted by several screams.

"What the –?"

There was a collective gasp. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Glowing silver and slightly transparent, they appeared to be arguing and hadn't seen the first years yet.

A fat little monk caught sight of them. "Well hello there, new students, I suppose, about to be sorted?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff, my old house you know."

"Move along now, the Sorting is about to begin."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line with Kishan in front of him, and Ron behind. They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting.

These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

In front of him, Kishan looked up at the ceiling and gasped. Harry followed his gaze and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

They quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

"Maybe we have to try and get a rabbit out of it," Kishan whispered to Harry. That seemed the sort of thing – noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, they stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing.

Kishan was so shocked at this he barely heard the last four lines of the song.

_"So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to the other two. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harry smiled weakly. Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Harry didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause

– "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Ron's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, after all he'd heard about Slytherin, but he thought they looked like an unpleasant lot. He was starting to feel definitely sick now. He remembered being picked for teams during gym at his old school.

He had always been last to be chosen, not because he was no good, but because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.

A horrible thought struck Harry, as horrible thoughts always do when you're very nervous. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon" and "Nott" went up, and then it was Kishan's turn.

"Parekh, Kishan." Professor McGonagall called out.

* * *

"Parekh, Kishan." Professor McGonagall called out.

Kishan felt slightly nervous as he walked up to the hat, he put it on and he found himself looking at the dark inside of the hat. "Ah this is new," he heard the hat speaking into his ear. "Loyalty like the best of the Hufflepuffs, Brighter than most Ravenclaws, Bravery of a true Gryffindor, and possibly just a small amount of the Slytherin thirst for power. I believe I should consider your opinion before I make my choice." Kishan was slightly taken aback, but thought as best he could _Gryffindor, I'd like to be in Gryffindor. _The hat seemed to consider this for a moment, and Kishan was afraid it might not listen to him, but a moment later he heard it shout Gryffindor to the rest of the Hall

Kishan didn't remember much of what happened after that, he remembered Harry and Ron joining him at the Gryffindor table, and shortly afterwards discussing their families, Kishan telling them about how his parents were killed fighting Voldemort when he was a year old, and how he was adopted by a Muggle family, but the rest of the evening was a blur, and before he knew it he was falling asleep in a red four poster bed.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm getting better at presenting thing from different points of view. I believe that the events of the first book at this point weren't changed that much by Kishan's presence, so they are very much the same.

**Disclaimer:**

I own nothing except my oc, please don't sue, I don't make money from this so i have nothing to give Rowling.

Please review, flames will help me improve the story.


	4. Potions

_"Many years passed before we really realized how much they had burdened themselves, how much pain there was on their shoulders. We worried that they would lose their way because of the burdens we saw, but we only saw just a small part of what they really carried."  
– Arthur Weasley, from an interview in 'The Heirs of Hogwarts'_

Friday was an important day for Harry and Ron. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Harry asked Ron as Kishan sat down on his other side, he hadn't been as lucky with not getting lost.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favours them – we'll be able to see if it's true."

"Wish McGonagall favoured us," said Kishan. Professor McGonagall was head of Gryffindor House, but it hadn't stopped her from giving them a huge pile of Transfiguration homework the day before.

Along with Professor McGonagall for Transfiguration, they had had lessons with Professor Flitwick – a tiny wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk – for charms, Professor Sprout for Herbology, Professor Binns – a ghost – for History of Magic.

When Kishan had first told the other two that he couldn't remember much of what had happened during the feast, Harry and Ron were slightly surprised that anyone could forget, but, none the less, they had instantly started filling him in on the important details namely: Nearly Headless Nick, The Forbidden Forest being forbidden, and the out of bounds corridor on the third floor, as well as a few of the minor details.

When Harry had told Kishan that he thought Professor Snape disliked him, Kishan had convinced Harry to study the textbook, or at least skim trough it to refresh his memory, saying that Harry would have to be prepared for anything Snape might throw at him, and Harry had done so just to get Kishan to stop worrying him about it.

Just then, the mail arrived. Harry had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought Harry anything so far. She sometimes flew in to nibble his ear and have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate. Harry tore it open at once. It said, in a very untidy scrawl:

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?  
I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

_Hagrid_

Harry borrowed Ron's quill, scribbled _'Yes, please, see you later'_ on the back of the note, and sent Hedwig off again.

It was lucky that Harry had tea with Hagrid to look forward to, because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to him so far.

Harry had told Kishan that he thought Professor Snape disliked him. By the end of the first Potions lesson, he knew he'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harry – he hated him.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, started the class by taking the roll call and he paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity."

Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind their hands.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word – like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry and Ron exchanged looks with raised eyebrows. Hermione Granger was on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry was slightly surprised, he took a few seconds to recall what Kishan had made him read, while Hermione's hand shot up into the air. "The draught of the living death, sir," he answered. Hermione's hand dropped slowly.

Professor Snape looked slightly taken aback. "Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"It's a stone found in the stomach of a goat, sir," Harry made a mental note to thank Kishan after the lesson.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They are the same plant, sir, which is also called aconite."

By now Snape looked like he had swallowed a lemon. "Well, why aren't you copying that down?" he said to the class.

After fifteen minutes of note taking he separated them into pairs and set them mixing a potion to cure boils. He swept around watching them brew, criticizing everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

When Kishan stopped Neville from adding porcupine quills at the wrong time, Snape swooped at the opportunity to take points; "two points from Gryffindor, Parekh," he said, "for interfering with another group's potion." Both Harry and Ron felt this was unfair, as Kishan _had_ been working with Neville.

* * *

"Bloody git can read minds," Ron said to the other two as they climbed the steps from the dungeons. "He knew Kishan had had made you study, he took those two points as revenge." Normally, Kishan would have argued against this, but with magic thrown into the mix, he thought this was the best explanation for what happened.

Harry's mind was racing – _why _did Snape hate him so much? "Cheer up," said Ron, after a few minutes, "Snape's, always taking points from Fred and George. Can we come to Hagrid's with you?"

* * *

At five to three they left the castle and made their way across the grounds. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, "Back, Fang – back."

Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. "Back, Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it.

"Make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Ron and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, Fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked.

"This is Ron, and this is Kishan," Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

"Another Weasley, eh?" said Hagrid, glancing at Ron's freckles. I spent half me life chasin' yer twin brothers away from the forest."

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but they pretended to be enjoying them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Harry's knee and drooled all over his robes.

Hagrid asked Kishan a few questions about himself and he in turn set about introducing himself to Hagrid properly.

After Kishan had finished, Harry told Hagrid about Snape's lesson. Hagrid, like Ron, told Harry not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"But he seemed to really hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?"

Yet Harry couldn't help thinking that Hagrid didn't quite meet his eyes when he said that.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot – great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about Charlie's work with dragons, Harry picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cosy. It was a cutting from the Daily Prophet:

**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown. Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day. "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokes-goblin this afternoon.

Harry remembered Ron telling him on the train that someone had tried to rob Gringotts, but Ron hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harry, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harry's eyes this time. He grunted and offered him another rock cake. Harry read the story again. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen, if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As the three of them walked back to the castle for dinner, their pockets weighed down with rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse, Harry thought that none of the lessons he'd had so far had given him as much to think about as tea with Hagrid. Had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snape that he didn't want to tell Harry?

* * *

**A/N:** One more chapter before the first big change to the timeline.

**Disclaimer:**

I own nothing and make no money from this. Suing me will gain you nothing.

Please review, a first fanfic is always full of errors, and flames are just what are needed to correct those errors.


End file.
